


March of the Witch Hunters

by ginnekomiko



Category: The Wizard of Oz & Related Fandoms, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnekomiko/pseuds/ginnekomiko
Summary: The three of them all have their reasons for following the yellow brick road.





	March of the Witch Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for some character reveals in the second act of the Wicked musical that the soundtrack doesn't cover.
> 
> Sorry about my (unintended) hiatus. It should conclude shortly, I just wanted to post *something* new.

The little human girl could follow directions diligently when she wanted, and the nice lady had been so kind to give her directions. (It helped there was only one way to go; thanks, Galinda!) The girl, careful to not step on the cracks of the yellowed bricks, led her strange crew towards their destination.

They were going on a witch hunt.

Behind the girl was the man made of tin; his axe at the ready, his grudge still searing. It was freshly scarred along his chest in the place where his heart used to beat.

Convenient, thought the scarecrow who walked a few paces to the girl’s left. No one would question the anger that whirled and clanged with each step the metal man took.

He muttered her name under his breath, like a spell, the name of the witch that had done this to him.

_Elphaba, Elphaba, Elphaba!_

It was funny, had the tin man not slipped and introduced himself as Boq to the little girl, the scarecrow would have never known otherwise. Boq solely blamed Elphaba for his plight, but hadn’t he strung the witch’s sister along for years? As a kindness, it was always said at Shiz, but wasn’t that a little bit heartless, too?

Boq kept looking at the little girl’s shoes. They had belonged to her, that girl who loved him so dearly.

The lion was much easier to identify. The shaking was unmistakable, he’d seen it before. The creature’s shy speech pattern was another hint. The lion was just young enough that day at university to still be able to learn how to speak, but mostly kept quiet because it was safer to do so. It was a well-known fact that for all of recent history, the animals of OZ did not talk. If they did, they ended up like Dr. Dillamond, which, of course, was also blamed on the witch they were hunting. The scarecrow wondered if the lion had made the connection. Did they smell the same as they did that day? Or had their transformations changed them?

In some ways, the scarecrow was impressed he still had some long-term memories stuffed up in his head somewhere. Everything was pretty fuzzy. Except, for one thing.

They were going to Kiamo Ko and she, the witch, would be there. Unlike the others, he held no grudge. 

When she cast the spell that turned him into this, she only wanted him to live.

Yet they still called her the Wicked Witch of the West.


End file.
